


Give in to me

by Oducchan



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Basically Troika/Akaya, I'm mostly embarassed by it and myself, Multi, but it's not really graphic, they fill him full
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oducchan/pseuds/Oducchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He hates them. He hates them so much, their strenght, their techniques, their abilities. </i><br/>He hates them, 'till he could only love them with all his heart and soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give in to me

**Author's Note:**

> **Nick autore:** Oducchan  
>  **Title:** Give in to me  
>  **Fandom:** Prince of tennis  
>  **Characters:**  Kirihara Akaya, Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou, Yanagi Renji  
>  **Pairing** : Akaya/Yukimura/Sanada/Yanagi (basically Troika/Akaya, it's the 3 of them on Akaya)  
>  **Rating:**  NC17  
>  **Notes:**  
>  I dunno what the hell possessed me to write this, but periodically I have this weird urge to see Akaya being taken and fulled with ~~come~~ love to the brim, so I had to give in. So. Well. It's so embarassing. I hope it's not too weird.

 

**Give in to me**

  
  
  
He hates them. He hates them so much, their strenght, their techniques, their abilities. The way Yanagi can read him like a open book, the way Sanada can destroy all his efforts with just a quick wrist movement, the way Yukimura can toy with him all around the tennis court: he hates every single word, every single gesture of sufficiency, every single look full of pity, distain or exasperation they toss toward him.  
He hates them. And then he finds himself like this, with Sanada inside him, holding his hips with care and attention while he thrusts into him, over and over again; with Yanagi all around him, tight and warm and tender as he bounces up and down on his lap; with Yukimura down his throat, with a hand in his black curls to encourage him at bobbing his head and taking him deeper, faster, until his throat hurts and his filthy whispers of appreciation are hoarse and broken by moans. ‘Cause when it ends like this and he can’t think ‘cause his mind is on fire and his body throbs with so much pleasure he could explode, then the only thing he can do it’s to love them, love them with his aching heart and tattered soul, love them until he’s hurting and he's wailing and begging for release, until it’s too much and too intense and he comes in a fit of shudders and collapses in their arms, empty, limp, sated.  Exhausted.  
He knows he's going to hate them again. It’ll be this evening or next morning or in the next 5 minutes, but he’ll hate them with burning passion and acrid determination. But right now, with Yukimura’s soft kisses along his shoulders, and Yanagi’s little pecks all over his thights, and Sanada’s tender touches on his arms and chest, he let himself forget. And he just love them for a little longer, knowing, deep inside himself, that for them, it’s just the same.


End file.
